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(£l?rt5t a\\^ tl7c ^Resurrection. 



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MAY 9 IBtir* I 



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Copyright, 1895, by 
GEORGE W. CROFTS. 



Price. 25 cts. 



Christ and the Resurrection. 



A SERMON IN SONG, 



t. 



y 



REV. GEORGE. WrCROFTS. 
Pastor of the First Congregational Church, Beatrice, Nebraska. 



ii 



2 3377"^^ 



DELIVERED EASTER MORNING, 1895, AND PUBLISHED BY 
THE CONGREGATIONAL SOCIETY. 




f6i + 7 




Behold, the angel of the resurrection stand 

Beside the tomb with Easter lilies in her hand. 

And gazing on the weeping one with longing eyes 

She points to heaven and says, "Thy loved one lives, arise!" 



CHRIST AND THE RESURRECTION. 



Text, John xi, 25: I am the resurrect w}i and the life. 




f^*fcr^J^§J "^ ^M 'THE RESURRECTION AND 

— ^ These wondrous words of Christ shall 

be my text. 
Let us rejoice, O Christian friends, that 

, He, 

v~^^l:^.^i^ The Son of God, that He who was the Truth, 
That He who could not lie, that He to whom 
,God said, "Thou art my Son, this day have I 




Begotten thee," that He the First and Last, 
That He who once was dead and is alive, 
liveth evermore, spake these sweet words. 
Let us rejoice, O, Christian friends, for now 
We surely know that these sweet words are true. 
For had these words been but the words of man. 
One like unto ourselves of erring mind. 
One like unto ourselves of sinful heart. 
To heed them then, O friends, we would not dare; 
Rut like a song that sweetly dies away. 
Or like a flower that withers 'neath the sun. 
Or like the drap'ry of the morn that fades 
Before the rising day, these words would die. 
And in their death our hope would be no more. 



To God then let us sing, 
With happy hearts and free, 

For death has lost its sting, 
The grave, its victory. 

No more we dread the tomb. 
Since Christ within it lay ; 

He robbed it of its gloom. 
And made it fair as day. 

'Tis now a place most dear. 
Of calm and blest repose. 

We joy to see it near 

Because the Savior rose. 

O, Thou, who from above 
Didst send so great a gift. 

With gratitude and love. 
Our songs to Thee we lift. 

Thus having made our faith and hope secure 
On words of truth more lasting than the sun, — 
For said He not, "The heavens shall pass away. 
But these my words shall never pass away?" 
And having sung a hymn to God, to whom 
All praise of right belongs, for all His love 
Expressed to us in ways outnumbering 
The sands upon the ocean's shore, but more 
Especially in that great Gift of His 
Unspeakable, His only Son, our Lord, 
In whom if we believe, we ne'er shall die ; 
Who died and yet who rose from out the tomb, — 
Let us withdraw the curtain that obscures 
This wondrous Being from our view, and catch 
Brief glimpses of His life and character. 

In Bethlehem, a babe, we Him behold 
Within a manger lying. Humble place 



For one of royal birth, and yet no throne 

Of temporal power, not that of Israel, 

Nor that of Rome that held a world in chains. 

Was good enough for Him. The heir of Heaven, 

To found a kingdom vast, embracing all 

Mankind, had little need of earthly pomp and show. 

The angel choir announced His birth as ne'er 

Before a being's birth was heralded. 

The humble shepherds heard the song and came 

And gazed on Him with joy. The wise men saw 

The star and followed where it led, and found 

The Babe and worshiped Him, and gave Him gifts 

Of gold and fragrant frankincense and myrrh. 

Around that little Babe of Bethlehem 

Began then to revolve events supreme ; 

The Past, with silvery locks, did point to Him, 

The Present stood and said, " Behold the Light !" 

The Future yet unborn was made to thrill 

With glorious hope. He to the world was sun 

New-born, the center of a system pure 

And bright ; yea, brighter than the Pleiades, 

Or than Orion, because of truth divine. 

Then down to Egypt trace Him in His flight 
From cruel Herod's bloody sword, that once 
Again God's word might be fulfilled that said, 
"From out of Egypt have I called my Son." 
And then, when Herod had to judgment gone, 
Mark His return to flowery Nazareth, 
That mountain village, where, a loving child, 
He grew in favor sweet with God and man. 
Just like a flower on which the sun doth shine. 
On which the rain doth fall, unhurt by worm, 
Unsmitten by the frost or torn with wind, 
So fair, so beautiful and good that one 
Might dream of troops of angels coming down 
From Heaven's gate to fondly gaze on Him. 



There see Him stand a lad of twelve among 
The doctors of the law, and qnestions deep 
Propound, and answers to deep qnestions give, 
Until a stillness settles o'er them all 
And they are made to feel that God once more 
To Israel hath sent a prophet wise. 

Then let imagination picture Him 

Advance in stature and in mind, advance 

In loveliness of character, advance 

In human majesty, a majesty 

Through which the Spirit shone like light within 

A ruby crystal, calm and marvellous. 

O who can picture Him, 
The Man of Nazareth ? 

Art's colors are too dim, 

They are but dust and death. 

No mind can Him conceive, 
No soul can Him embrace, 

No poet's fancy weave 
The beauty of His face. 

Throw pen and pencil by 

Forever to repose, 
A star take from the sky, 

And from the earth a rose. 

Let these in loveliness 

Sweet symbols of Him be, 

And silently express 
His loveliness to thee. 

And now the time has come, the hour is ripe 
For His great mission to begin. Go, stand 
By Jordan's ford, Bethabara. There see 
A mighty multitude around a man 
Austere. Give ear unto his cry, "Repent! 



Repent ! Beliold Heaven's kingdom is at hand ! 

Behold ! the King of Heaven draweth nigh !" 

And as he speaks behold this Personage 

Of whom we've had a meager glimpse appear. 

Behold the Lamb of God that taketh hence 

The sins of all the world. And then behold 

Him going down with John into the stream, 

Receiving at his hand the holy rite 

Of baptism, honoring thns the law of God. 

And then behold him from the stream come np 

And stand npon the shore ! And then behold 

A scene snch as this world ne'er saw before ; 

The heavens from whence He came their portals ope 

And like a dove of silver plnmage bright 

The Spirit on Him falls, while from the heavens 

A voice is heard, the trnmpet voice of God, 

The voice that spake creation into birth, 

The voice that said, "Let there be light!" and light 

In whiteness flooded all the world, that said, 

"This is my Son beloved, in whom I am 

Well pleased !" 'Twas here the King was crowned, enthroned. 

Now from this scene of glory follow Him, 

If thon hast power, into the wilderness. 

And there behold Him as He wrestles long. 

For forty days and nights, with man's great foe. 

Oh, if t'were said of one, "There goes the man 

Who once in hell sojonrned !" what shall we say 

Of Him who met its hosts and conqnered them ! 

And then when hnnian strength is gone, behold 

The angel bands, who from their citadels 

Beheld the awfnl contest, flocking down 

And ministering nnto Him. Snblime the scene. 

O tempted ones draw nigh 

The man of Galilee, 
He hears thy every sigh 

And He will succor thee. 



He conquered in His might 
The tempter of our race, 

And in the dreadful fight 
He helps us by His grace. 

And as He conquered, we 

Shall also victory gain. 
And at the last shall see 

The hosts of evil slain. 

And as the- angels came 

When human strength was spent. 

So, to us in His name 
The angels shall be sent. 

He now goes forth a conqueror — no more 

Does Satan dare confront the Son of God, 

But in His holy presence meekly begs. 

A conqueror ! and yet how oft 'twill seem 

To mortal eyes that He is overcome. 

And yet we know full well that His defeats 

Were only stepping stones to victory. 

A conqueror invincible, and yet 

Not panoplied as warriors are was He ; 

A leader and commander He, and yet 

No mighty hobt at His command appears. 

But just a little band of modest men 

He calls to follow Him. 'Tis thus He starts 

Upon His wondrous work ; most wondrous work 

E'er viewed by man, or by the angel host. 

We have not time to trace Him everywhere, 
Nor all His deeds record. First view Him then 
In Nazareth, His own dear childhood's home. 
'Tis on the Sabbath, in the synagogue. 
And, as His custom was in former days. 
He rises in His place to read. The book 
Esaias is handed Him and thus He reads: 



"The Spirit of tlie Lord upon me is 
Because to preach the gospel to the poor 
Anointed I have been ; and God hath sent 
Me out to heal the broken-hearted ones, 
And to the captives give deliverance, 
And sight give to the blind and liberty 
Unto the bruised ; to preach the year of God 
Acceptable." And then the ancient book 
He closed, and sitting down He said to all, 
"This day is this most blessed word fulfilled." 
And then from out His heart like some great fount 
He poured the living truth, — but not with love 
Was it received, though given in love. In wrath 
With one accord, they rose to thrust Him out, 
And swept Him on in wrath unto the brow 
Of that high hill on which the town was built 
That they might cast Him o'er to dreadful death, 
But He with power they knew not of, escaped. 

Oh, blind and cruel men, to turn away 

The light, the truth, that heaven had sent to them. 

He leaves them and their synagogue for aye. 

Then see Him on the mount as there He sits 

That He may teach the living multitude. 

Oh, listen to those words that fall like pearls 

So white, the glorious beatitudes ! 

Oh, favored ears that heard those blessed words! 

Oh, favored souls that caught those wondrous truths 

That then and there were put in form of words 

That they might gather them as Israel 

In days of old the manna gathered up. 

And though like manna sweet and nourishing, 

Yet how unlike, for manna passed away. 

While this remained, and still remains as then, 

Philosophy divine, the truth of God, 

Revealed then through Him, the Son of God, 



Who came to show us God, to make us heirs 

Of God by making us His children dear. 

And we His children by the truth are made 

And by the spirit of that truth that makes 

Us like to Him, all kind and merciful 

And just ; who on the evil and the good 

His rain, His sunshine, and His blessing sends. 

And when His sermon great did end, we read 

That they who heard His doctrine were amazed 

Because that with authority He taught, 

And not as did the Scribes. And thus it was 

Where'er He went, thro' all His ministry. 

At Jacob's well, in house of Pharisee, 

In desert plain, in synagogue, in homes 

Of rich and poor alike, by stream and lake. 

In temples made by human hands, and in 

The one great temple made by God, whose dome 

Is azure, blazing with the sun by day 

And decked with golden stars and moon by night, 

Whose organ is the elements that breathe 

In cadence low and sweet among the pines. 

Or thunder in the mighty storms that shake 

The temple walls ; whose choir is that of birds, 

And best of all, whose doors are open wide 

By night and day to rich and poor alike. 

The common people gladly heard, and men 

Astonished said, "Never did man so speak." 

For all the world was dark and man was blind. 

And when He spake a light brighter than day 

Spread round and close shut eyes were opened wide. 

The world in sorrow and despair was dead, 

But when he spake new life appeared, just as 

In spring when first the sun doth stoop and kiss 

The earth the tender grass is seen, while grief 

Gave way to joy, despair to hope, and songs 

Were heard, and hallelujahs grand, where once 



Was naught but sighs. How true the words He spake, 
"My words are life." 

And then behold His works. 
Did mortal man e'er see the like before? 
The water in His presence turns to wine 
And blushes like a bride before the oroom. 

o 

The boisterous sea, that clamored for the lives 

Of men, at His command grows calm and still, 

Like some ferocious beast that hears the voice 

Of master and of friend, ceasing to growl, 

Crouches upon the earth and licks his hand. 

The leper, long an outcast sad. He heals 

And cleanses of his leprosy. The blind 

In darkness cry to Him and sight is given. 

The lame at His command leap like an hart, 

The tongue long held in chains of silence sings. 

The racked with awful pain, and fever scorched, 

He heals by just a simple word or touch. 

A sadly sufF'ring one, like a frail reed 

From whom a thousand times all hope had fled. 

Who sought the world around for health and failed. 

Within the throng His seamless robe did touch, 

And she was healed, — O fount of life divine! 

See those in grasp of spirits dark and vile 

Set free, and e'en the dead are raised to life. 

There see that only daughter sweet and pure. 

Just fallen asleep, — her fragrant breath just gone. 

To her the Savior says, "Maiden, arise!" 

And all that lovely form is thrilled with life 

Again, the bosom heaves, the eyes light up. 

The pale lips move, and once again she lives! 

There see that only son, a widow's son ; 

The sad procession moves and he is borne 

Toward the tomb. Christ sees the mother's tears 

And says, "Weep not," and then, touching the bier, 



Exclaims, "Young man, I say to thee, arise!" 

And from that bed of death he rises up 

And to that joyous mother he is given, — 

O mothers! what is this dear Christ to you? 

Now go to yonder grave in Bethany ; 

Within that grave an only brother lies 

Who for four days within death's cold embrace 

Has holden been. His weeping sisters, see. 

This brother Jesus loved and at his grave 

He wept — at every grave the Savior weeps. 

Now hear Him speak the word omnipotent. 

While out of that dark tomb that brother steps! 

O wondrous man, that had such power on earth! 

And yet while His great power doth us amaze 

Our hearts by His sweet spirit are overwhelmed. 

Naught else but sweet incarnate love was He, 

And oh, where'er there's love there's pity, too. 

He was the gentle Shepherd of the flock. 

The little babes He took within His arms. 

And blessing them, He said, "Of such dear ones 

My Kingdom is." And on the multitude 

Weary and faint He had compassion true. 

He fed them as the Shepherd feeds his sheep. 

The bruised reed He did not break nor quench 

The smoking flax. To one taken in sin 

Whom others would have stoned. He said, "Now go 

Thy way forgiven, in peace, and sin no more." 

Behold Him on the top of Olivet. 

Before Him lies ancient Jerusalem, 

Within it are the souls to whom He came 

Who even now are thirsting for His blood. 

He knows what wicked, cruel thoughts are theirs, 

x\nd what a cruel deed they soon would do. 

And yet no word of wrath He speaks, but weeps 

And says, "Jerusalem! Jerusalem! 

How oft I would have gathered thee as doth 



A hen her brood beneath her wings, bnt ye 
Would not, and now your desolation conies." 

Such was the Being, over all supreme, 

All loving, filled with all beneficence, 

Bestowing good for ill, kindness for hate, 

A light to all who in dense darkness sat, 

A heavenly teacher teaching the untaught. 

Correcting those who had been wrongly taught; 

A liberator opening prison doors; 

Physician, nurse, guardian and friend to all; 

A comforter to every troubled soul; 

A man, and yet far more than man, divine; 

A man in whom the Father lived and moved 

And showed Himself unto the world iif love; 

The God-man fitted to redeem the world 

From sin and death and make it clean as heaven. 

Such was the man who at the hands of men 

Must drain with all its woe the cup of death! 

Oh, man! canst thou lay low 

A Being so divine? 
Canst thou direct the blow 

With that poor heart of thine? 

Hast thou the power to smite. 
While God looks from above, 

The fount of life and light. 
Of mercy and of love? 

Ah, no! but sin in thee 

Shot forth the poisoned dart 

From depths of misery 

To pierce that loving heart. 

Ah, yes, 'twas sin, and yet 
Thro' thee it did the deed, 

And now in deep regret 

Thv heart, oh man, must bleed. 



The paschal feast is o'er and Jesus now 

The bread takes up and giving thanks to God 

He breaks and to his loved disciples gives 

And says, "This bread, my body is, broken 

For you, take, eat, in memory of me." 

And then the cup takes up and giving thanks 

He passes it to all and says, "Drink ye 

Of it each one, this is my blood that's shed 

For you. Do this in memory of me." 

Oh, poor disciples! who can tell what thoughts 

Were theirs that night! They did not know, 

They did not dream of that which was to come. 

Like children whom a mother bids farewell 

With her expiring breath, and bids them think 

Of her when she is gone, but knowing not 

The meaning of her words, so 'twas with them. 

A hymn is sung and then from out that room 
They pass in silence thro' the silent streets. 
' Tis midnight and the paschal moonshines down 
Upon them like an agonizing face, 
As we have seen at times, a frozen woe. 
On thro' the city gate, on down the vale. 
Across the Kedron's cjlimmerino; rill into 
The garden of Gethsemane. Blest place 
Where often they had been before, but not 
As now. In other days they came to rest 
Beneath those old and gnarled olive trees 
And let the breeze their heated foreheads cool. 
But now it is the place of pain, and while 
The world shall stand Gethsemane 
Shall be the synonym of boundless grief. 
"Watch ye!" He says unto His followers 
"While I remove a little space and pray." 
And in the stillness of that midnight hour 
And in the shadow of a sheltering; tree 



He falls upon His face and prays: "Father 

If possible let this cup pass from me, 

And yet Thy will, not mine, be done." And then 

Returning, finds His loved ones fast asleep! 

Poor human flesh! how frail and week art thou. 

That thou canst not for just one hour keep watch! 

Again, and once again He prays while drops 

Of crimson grief fall to the earth like rain. 

Oh, who can tell what Jesus suffered there! 

And yet we know He suffered there for all, 

And tasted there the cup of death that all 

Might taste the cup of everlasting life. 

Then rising up He bids His loved ones rise, 

For lo! the traitor comes with that fierce band 

Of men who like a pack of ravening wolves 

Are thirsting for His blood. The traitor's kiss 

Is given and He is hurried on to trial. 

Go, follow Him in thought before the priests, 

Before King Herod cruel, base and mean. 

Where he is mocked, spit on and crowned with thorns, 

And in a tattered, purple robe arrayed 

And sceptered with a broken reed! O earth! 

O heaven! behold the treatment of your King! 

And now before the Roman governor. 

Hear Pilate ask, "What evil hath He done?" 

Yea, verily, what evil hath He done 

That He should die and at the hands of men! 

"I find no fault in Him!" hear Pilate say. 

And yet unto the insatiate mob He's given. 

Now Pilate, wash your hands and make them clean! 

Transfer thy guilt to other hands! Alas, 

How weak is man at times to do the right! 

"Away with Him! Let Him be crucified!" 

That is the people's voice, ''''vox populi 

Vox Dei'''' often falsely it is called. 

Prepare the cross and lay its heavy beams 



Upon the man who hnnian grief has borne! 

And now away to Calvary outside 

The city walls. The crolden sun has risen 

And now between the thieves He's raised upon 

His cross. He prays again. "Father forgive, 

They know not what they do." 'Tis noon, and yet 

'Tis growing dark. No cloud is i,n the sky, 

And yet, 'tis growing dark. The sun is veiled 

In grief. The heart of nature breaks. The rocks 

Are rent and graves in pain throw out their dead. 

He dies. The thorn-crowned head droops on His breast. 

Come, soldier, with your spear, and pierce His side. 

Behold the stream that flows to cleanse thy sin. 

Oh, cruel cross! Why should He suffer thus? 

And oft we say, "Wiiy should we suffer thus?" 

And yet were there no cross there' d be no crown. 

Beyond a doubt "the way of light is by the cross;" 
The path of glory and of gain is by the loss 
Of much we mortals love and seek most firm to hold, 
E'en as the miser counts and hides his shiniuQf crold. 

God knoweth what is best for us; He marks our wav 
Far up the rugged hill where sweet the dawning day 
More quickly comes, and gladdens our enraptured sight, 
And darkness dies and all the world is filled with liorht. 

o 

He makes us weary; for the weary there is rest; 
He bitter sorrow gives; the eyes that weep are blest; 
He plants the piercing thorn; but by the thorn the rose 
Puts forth its mossy bud, and then in beauty glows. 

He wounds, and yet His gentle hand doth make us whole; 
He grieves, and yet His comforts lift the drooping soul 
Close to his side until His warm and loving kiss 
Makes us forget our woe in ecstacies of bliss. 



Out ot our present' ill some good will surely come; 
It was a homeless one who sang of "Home, Sweet Home;" 
The torn and bruised grape sheds forth the purple wine, 
And wounds create white pearls beneath the ocean's brine. 

Were there no race to run, no battle fierce to fight; 
Were there no pains to rack, no fears, no death, no night, 
Then there would be no crown to win, no laurel ofreen. 
No endless life to gain beyond this transient scene. 

Then let us prize it well, this life that God has given. 
For if its path be rough, 'tis but the way to heaven; 
'Tis only when the goal is reached that we may know 
That from life's sorest ills our choicest blessings flow. 

The cross! Oh what a bed on which to die! 

And yet no bed the world e'er saw, so fair. 

Nor one so greatly to be coveted. 

A bed of stainless honor, truth and love, 

A bed on which to find profound repose, 

A bed from which to rise in strength supreme 

And look into the face of dawning day 

With eyes reflecting all its light, like dew 

Just fallen from heaven, that sparkles on the rose. 

Go look upon that bed, take but a glance. 

See there the power of hate, the power of love. 

The power of human hate, of love divine! 

So powerful is the sight more than a glance 

Thou canst not in thy mortal weakness take. 

"Tis finished!" Sin can do no more to Him. 
The gate of Death has opened wide and He 
Has passed on through triumphantly to life. 
Nailed to that cross by cruel hands, by hands 
Of love from thence He's borne unto the tomb. 
O rock hewn tomb, that once so cold and dark 
To human hearts appeared, how art thou changed! 



The stone is rolled before the door and sealed. 

The Roman guard is set and peace draws round 

The scene her mantle wooing all to rest. 

The Sabbath o'er, the women lingering last 

About the cross, at early dawn set forth 

With spices to embalm the dust of Him 

They dearly loved, and as they went they said, 

While thinking of the heavy stone that stood 

Against the entrance of the rocky tomb, 

"Oh, who for us the stone will roll away?" 

But when they came, behold! no stone was there. 

The day of rest was o'er, the rosy light 
Of morn had kissed the sable fringe of night. 
The golden stars within her diadem 
Still glimmered faintly o'er Jerusalem. 

The spices were prepared and there was naught 
That caused the faithful women anxious thought. 
Save this, the stone that lay against the tomb. 
And that tinged all their brightest hopes with gloom. 

With gladsome eyes they saw the breaking day. 
But who, oh, who will roll the stone away! 
They know not, yet, with love's strong staff they go 
Unto the grave of Him who loved them so. 

Unmeasured joy! as by that grave they stand, 
To roll away the stone they need no hand. 
The stone is rolled away and that dark tomb 
Is filled with morning light and sweet perfume. 

How often we, all broken hearted say, 
"Oh, who for us will roll the stone away?" 
Our strength is small, oh, who will undertake 
To roll awav the stone for love's dear sake? 



And like those women at the tomb we find 
That God, wlio is in all His dealings kind, 
Has sent His angel at the break of day 
To roll for us the heavy stone away. 

Oh, let US trust Him in our darkest hours, 
From foul decay He brings the fragrant flowers, 
From night the stars, and in good time the day; 
Oh! trust Him, He will roll the stone away. 

The stone was rolled away and He they sought 

Had lisen. The guarded grave could not retain 

The soul of life that pulsates not alone 

In l:)oundless ether with unnumbered worlds, 

In flowers and grass and shrub and vine and tree, 

In myriad forms of insects, bird and beast, 

In all that's beautiful where'er we gaze, 

But in the heart and soul of man, in all 

His thoughts. His yearnings — all His dreams and plans. 

The inspiration of his deathless love. 

His thirst for holiness and endless life, 

This soul ten thousand graves could not retain, 

Nor all the powers in earth or hell withold 

From coming forth to bless a sorrowing world. 

The voice the)' thought was hushed for aye, they heard 

Again. The hand they thought was cold for aye 

They touched again, and it was warm with life. 

The eyes they thought were closed for aye, beamed down 

Upon them as of yore all full of love's 

Sweet light and all their doubts were swept away 

Like darkness when the cloudless sun from out 

The purple sea of gloom ascends the sky, 

And night is gone. 

DEATH IS A FALLEN FOE! 

By many signs infallible did Christ, 

To those who knew Him best, give proof that He 



Had risen from the dead. The doubting ones, 

And none there were who doubted not at first, 

Became strong men of faith, yea even more, 

They kneiv that He who once was crucified, 

By those pierced hands and wounded side, by that 

Scarred brow and by those mangled feet, had risen. 

They knew Him by His voice still full of love, 

They knew Him by His breaking of the bread 

When at Emmaus. Knew Him in that room, 

When to the doubting one, He said, "Reach forth 

Thy hand and touch these fresh made wounds;" 

They know Him at the sea when morn had come 

After a fruitless night of toil and at 

His word their nets again they sank and caught 

Them full to overflowing. They knew Him when 

On Olivet He blessed them and arose 

Thro' clouds beyond their sight to God again. 

They knew all this and in this certitude 

Went forth and preached the glorious truth to men. 

Down thro' the centuries the truth has come. 

To-day we clasp it to our beating hearts. 

This risen Christ is mine; this risen Christ 

Is yours; this risen, living, eternal Christ 

Belongs to all mankind, to every race. 

To high and low and rich and poor alike. 

He is the "resurrection and the life." 

If we believe in Him then life we have, 

And ever shall possess, world without end. 

Oh, may the breath of this sweet Easter Day 

Catch up the balm of this blest hope and sweep 

Its springtide o'er the frozen hearts of men, 

Until like gardens full of fruits and flowers 

And full of song and full of heavenly joy, 

They wait the coming of the Gardener 

Who gathers all that's beautiful and good 

And shields it from the blighting power of death. 



Oh, may the lily rising from the earth, 
Its snowy bosom spreading to the light, 
Upon this blessed Day a symbol be 
Of that new life, of that new faith, of that 
New hope the risen Christ bequeaths to us. 
God makes the lilies His evangelists : 

Easter lilies pure and white, 
Emblems tair of life and light; 
Easter lilies, bud and bloom 
Close beside the empty tomb. 

God's sweet darlings here below 
In this world of grief and woe, 
Words could not so well express 
Heaven's love and tenderness. 

In your bosoms we may read : 
"He now lives who once was dead; 
Heavenward lift your weeping eyes 
To those mansions in the skies. 

"Look unto the pearly gates, 
There thy loved-one for thee waits; 
lyist, that voice that speaks to thee 
' Haste thy coming unto me.' " 

Easter lilies, by your breath 
Taught I am there is no death; 
By the white light of your bloom 
I behold an empty tomb ! 





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